Tekken: Shards of Ascension
by JunKing
Summary: This is a series of one shots that will focus on several original characters appearing in my Tekken: Ascension series. Chapter 1 is titled New Person Same Old Mistakes. Before Scott Firestone and Magnolia Forde became involved with The King of Iron Fist Tournaments, they dealt with an experience in jail that shattered their lives as they knew it.


Desperation flowed through my brain like a life force. I lay in the sorry excuse of a bed, top bunk. My two roommates were out in the main room, trading bars of soap for cookies. All I wanted was to see the sky, but I couldn't. The window was blurred with a tinted glass and it was merely a slit, big enough to fit my hand in. Jail. Thrown in here on false charges and never getting the chance to prove myself. They say you're innocent until proven guilty, but that's bullshit.

Here I was being mistreated by fellow inmates and police officers for a crime I didn't commit. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity. There was nothing I could do to entertain myself, for fear of a cop coming by and taking it from me. All I could do was ask to borrow a book from other inmates. When I read them, I could feel my mind deeply escaping into its contents. But at the same time, I couldn't read them for too long. My mind began to wander and I found myself reliving that night. The night that put me here.

I remembered everything. The fight. Running from the house in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. Throwing the car in reverse and pulling away at lightning speed. Everything felt so surreal. It was almost like I was watching my life happen through a camera lens. If only it had truly been that simple. I drove. And drove. And drove. Stopping at a gas station to grab myself a drink, I contemplated what to do now. My thoughts tempted me to just drive back to North Carolina, my home town. Drive as far away as I could, leaving not a second's notice for any of my friends and family.

My mind was numb at that point. I knew this was bad, I just knew it. As soon as I stepped out of the car, I was thankful I had been coherent enough to grab a pair of shorts on the way out. However, I didn't remember to bring shoes with me. Sighing, I walked into the gas station, bare feet touching a freshly mopped floor. I quickly made my way over to the coolers and grabbed three, maybe four Arizona teas. And some Nyquil. I needed some sleep, and badly. For now, it seemed I might have to sleep in my car until things cleared up.

I looked around with hopeful eyes, waiting for them to stop on a pair of cheap flip flops to purchase. I'm sure I looked crazy enough being out here this late, not wearing shoes wasn't helping. No shoes. Damn. I approached the clerk and wanting to break the awkward silence, I asked if they sold any. To my misfortune, the answer was no. Seeing his curiousity, I decided to lie and turn the situation into a joke.

"Some asshole totally stole my flip flops at the beach nearby. Took them off to walk in the sand, came back, and they were gone." Luckily, he bought it and laughed. Shaking his head, he looked at me and chuckled.

"Only in Florida, man. Only in Florida." Nodding at him, I smiled and wished him a good night before heading back out to my car. As soon as I reached the door, I dropped the façade along with my smile. I didn't know what to do. I had nowhere to go, no friends or family to call. So I did all I could manage in that moment. I drove aimlessly again. I found myself driving towards the beach that I'd just talked about. Something about the night sky blanketed over the ocean always seemed to calm me down.

I'd gotten pretty far. I looked to my sides and took in the peaceful sight as I drove parallel to the water. For some reason, I stopped to get a burger along the way and was now eating it in silence. I wanted a cigarette. A sigh of relief escaped my lips when I saw the pack of menthols staring back at me. I knew it was a disgusting habit, but it was the only comfort I could reach on to in this moment. Pulling one out and setting it against my lips, I cursed aloud seeing there wasn't a single lighter in the car. There goes that. Little did I know, a missing lighter was about to be the least of my worries. My phone began to vibrate. Looking down, I didn't recognize the number. Choosing not to answer it, I kept driving. That's when I heard a voicemail notification sound pierce the silence of the car.

I reached down and looked at the phone. A text message was also displayed on the screen. How did I miss that? It was from her. Magnolia. Three simple words.

'Where are you?'

I couldn't deal with her right now. Her drinking had once again gotten out of hand and I dare not talk to her after the mess I made of our bedroom. In the heat of the moment, I threw dressers, chairs, desks. All to keep her from following me. Pushing the unpleasant altercation from my mind, I listened to the voicemail. A detective. Fuckin' A. She called the police. My mind was too blank to feel any sort of immediate panic, so I called him back. The ringing made my heart feel as if it was rising in my throat.

"Detective James speaking."

"Hi, this is Scott Firestone. You called me?"

"Yes, Mr. Firestone. We responded to a domestic disturbance call from your fiancé. A miss Magnolia Forde. We need you to come down to the station so we can take your statement. How soon can you get here?"

"It'll take about twenty five or so minutes, but I'm headed your way now."

"Great. We'll see you soon."

My mind was still so numb that I didn't process the danger that I was facing. I figured I'd just go there and tell the truth. I had nothing to hide. What could go wrong? A half hour later, I found myself surrounded by cops outside the station, guns raised and pointed at me. The red and blue lights from about five or six police cars blinded me. I did as they asked. 'Turn off the car. Show us your hands out the window. Get out and put them on your head. Face away from us. Walk back towards us, slowly, no sudden moves.'

I was greeted with a pair of rough hands grabbing my wrists, slapping on a pair of tight hand cuffs. Too tight in fact, I could feel them digging deeply into my skin. I was padded down and searched, asked if anyone else was in the car. And then I was grabbed by the elbow and walked over through the array of lights and flashlights swirling about my face. I locked eyes with my bare feet and held them there as I walked forward. We stopped and I heard a familiar voice. It was the detective I'd just spoken to earlier. Right away, I noticed him trying to lull me into a false sense of security before reading me my rights.

I walked through the fight Magnolia and I'd had earlier. I could sense judgement all around me. This is what it felt like to be a criminal. This is what it felt like to be a bad person. I'd never been in any kind of trouble all my life until now. Not even so much as a parking ticket. Now it really felt as if I was having a nightmare, or watching a movie that I couldn't change the channel to. Just do everything they say and I'll be fine.

I ducked into the backseat of a police car and struggled to fight the pain in my arms. I was cuffed so tight that I felt like my arms were going to snap against the seat behind me. No words were spoken on the way to the holding area of the station. Once I got into a lonesome cell, I stood silently, trying to understand what was happening to me. A cop approached the glass.

"Mr. Firestone, I need your ring." Looking down, I sighed as I removed my engagement ring from my hand. As soon as it slipped off, I could feel all our loving memories slip away with it. How did we get here?

The cell was filthy and cold. A small room made of cement blocks and a dirty metal toilet to my left. I sat in place and felt nothing at all. Just a serene absence of feeling and emotion. It was a trance that would remain with me for weeks to come. An hour later, I was pulled out of the cell and made to wear a set of shackles that bound my hands and feet together. Following the officer outside, I struggled to walk as the cuffs ate into my ankles and wrists. I was being loaded into what almost resembled a tank now. I sat in solitude against an icy cold metal bench. My bare feet dug firmly into the steel floor with every turn the van made, trying desperately not to go falling across the ground. The ride felt like an eternity.

For the next three hours, I found myself going through jail processing. Each experience I endured seemed to further chip away at my soul, what little of it I had left. First, I had to strip in a small shower while a guard stood in front of me and watched. Then I was put into a room that both smelled and looked like a bathroom. Six or seven other men sat on the bench and floor, trying to sleep at this three in the morning hour. I was given a crumpled up lunch bag. I gave it away as soon as I could. I had no intention of eating. Laying on the piss stained floor, I wondered what I did in life to deserve this. I was no saint, but I didn't deserve this.

I prepared myself for things to get worse, and worse they did get. I spent the next ten days laying in a body odor smelling room with three other prisoners. We were told when to shower, when to eat, and we had to use the bathroom and shower in front of everyone. The guards were abusive and treated everyone like the dirt beneath their nails. To serve and to protect? I watched them provoke prisoners, make fun of them, talk down to them as if their very existence was an eyesore. Questions I asked them went ignored, they would walk away in the middle of my sentence. On days when new uniforms were to be given out, I even had a guard completely ignore me and force me to sit in my dirty clothes for another few days.

Every meal I received, I took small bites of before giving it away to my roommates. In a mere week and a half, I was twenty pounds lighter. We weren't allowed to do anything but lay on a table-thin mat and a 'blanket' that was stained and didn't cover your whole body. People lost their minds around me as I struggled to keep mine. I watched as inmates who couldn't take the silence anymore bashed their heads against walls until the point of drawing blood. By this point, I had lost the ability to produce tears, so I stared lifelessly as guards rushed in to tie them down to a cold metal slate. There they lay for hours, unable to move.

To see a man driven to such a point of insanity that he would force his own face against a concrete wall repeatedly, is something I knew I'd never be able to forget. Court came and went and I never was given a chance to defend myself. My bond was set at $15,000 and I was told I only needed to come up with $1,500. But I was broke and I knew nobody would help me. I wasn't close enough with anyone for them to help me with finances. I'd spent so much time going about my daily routine, watching friends and family come into my life when they needed something, then leave as soon as they didn't anymore. It was just Magnolia and me versus the world. We were both subjected to horrific backgrounds and childhoods. A pair of people so fucked up that only we understood each other. As much as we tore things down together, we built it back up. She saw me for who I truly was and accepted it. And I accepted her. And even though I was devastated by what was happening to me now, I knew we were going to be okay. That's how our relationship worked. There was nothing we couldn't survive.

Snapping back to the current day, I looked up at the ceiling. With a pen I'd managed to hide from the guards, I wrote our initials into the paint next to our anniversary date. Her face was all that kept me going now. I knew she didn't mean for any of this to happen, and by law, we were forbidden to speak until everything was settled. All I could see was her at home, drinking herself to sleep with mascara stained cheeks. She too had no one. No one who would help her or try to understand her. I needed to get out of here, so we could fix this and get back to being the people we used to be. Scott Firestone and Magnolia Forde. A team that prevailed no matter what.

In this moment, I realized that this was what living hell must be. An existence devoid of companionship and understanding. Dreaming each night was my one true escape. And when I woke, the sinking despair was almost too much to bear. It was like a nightmare that I couldn't escape. I couldn't wake up from it as much as I tried. Never before had I refused to feel. But I couldn't afford to feel anything anymore. Because emotions equaled weakness in here. I learned to respond to another man putting his hand on my ass with a shrug of the shoulder. I learned to shower under lustful eyes and respond with closing my own to escape from them. In any normal setting, I'd defend myself. But defending yourself in here meant suffering the abuse of the guards. So I closed my eyes and imagined myself somewhere else.

I imagined walking on the beach with Magnolia and our dog Mabel, laughing and taking pictures of each other as the sun rose behind us in a blaze of glory. I imagined our first date, the way her lips felt the first time we kissed. I remembered coming home from a failed gig and having her arms to fall into. I remembered losing my grandfather, the man who raised me, and her being there for me. She leaned her head against my shoulder and held my hand as we watched his coffin descend into the earth. She came along with me to visit my grandmother, who had a mental break afterwards. Even though my grandmother wouldn't speak, I watched as Magnolia leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead to let her know she was loved. This woman was everything to me. And this place was keeping us apart.

This place was hell. All around me, I watched inmates pray and beg for their gods to help them. They begged their gods for mercy. There was a time when I would've done the same. But I refused. God wasn't there for me all the times that I prayed for my father to stop beating me. He didn't answer when my mom lay on the floor having a stroke in front of me. Prayer was the first thing I turned to when I was a kid. And all it did was give me false hope that things would be okay if he heard me. But he never did. I hadn't prayed in almost a decade, I wasn't going to start praying again now. I was going to get through this all by myself.

Night had come again. I only knew it was night time because the guards came around and began to lock us all in our cells again. To see the sky, just to see clouds would be amazing. As the silence around me set in, hours started to pass. Each minute of those hours ate away at me. It was a constant battle to keep my mind together. I could feel just how much power I was using just to be calm. It felt like at any given moment I could lose control and start screaming in a fit of rage, unable to handle this abuse any longer. Just when I felt I couldn't hang on any longer, I heard the sound of the door buzz open.

"Firestone room 236! Pack your things, you're free to go."

I looked at my roommates in confusion, unsure how I was leaving. They smiled for me and helped me pack. It was only then that I felt guilty. Here I was going back out into the world, to fix my relationship, to live again. And they were trapped here to endure this purgatory. I'd seen a lot of evil people in here. They weren't part of them. They were people just like me, who were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. With a final handshake, I wished them luck and headed towards the guard.

It was three thirty in the morning. The guard gave me a bag with my personal belongings in it and I listened carefully as he told me how to exit the jail. I was miles from home, but I didn't care. After a month of being here, unable to experience life, I was ready to run free. I followed the maze-like hallways and held back a laugh of joy when I saw a glass door leading to a dimly lit parking lot. I pushed forward, never looking back, and felt the rush of wind touch my face for the first time in weeks. The night sky was lit with stars and the air was quiet. There were three other former prisoners, young teenagers, running happily into the night to be reunited with their families and loved ones.

I reached into the bag and slipped my ring back on, feeling my smile reappear after being hidden for so long. There was so much I'd taken for granted. You don't realize how much you miss until all those things are pulled away from you. I felt like a brand new person, molded by the fires of the hell I'd just survived. I pulled out my phone and hoped it was charged.

"Yes!" I yelled into the sky as it turned on. Fumbling frantically, I dialed Magnolia and listened intently to the ring. I knew that this was just the beginning. My battle was not over yet. I'd have to put the pieces of my life back together. I'd have to deal with people treating me differently, looking down on me for being involved in this. It didn't matter if I was innocent. People were going to think what they were going to think. But right now, none of that mattered. I just needed to hear her voice. I just needed to know that we would be okay. I did what I said. I made it all by myself. I didn't need a prayer, I didn't come begging God for help because I was in trouble. I wouldn't put on a false persona and then leave it once I escaped. But right now, please, just let me hear her voice. Please. The ringing stopped. I heard movement and a gasp. It was her.

"Scott? Baby is that you?"

"I've been dying to hear your voice, Magnolia."

"I'm so sorry for all of this! Tell me where you are, I'm coming right now."

Hearing her after all this time being apart, with the world against us again, my heart skipped a beat. I knew this was going to be a hard road to recover from. But for love, nothing would keep us apart. Me and her versus the world. The way it's always been. The way it always will be.


End file.
